


If you've been waitin' for fallin' in love

by starlingcore



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Blake being adorable, Boys Kissing, Confessions, First Kiss, I just saw it a second time and had to write this, M/M, My first fic of these two, Not Beta Read, Period-Typical Homophobia, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:27:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22672531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlingcore/pseuds/starlingcore
Summary: He paused when the makeshift bouquet was thrust towards his chest. To say he was flabbergasted was an understatement, he kept looking between Blake and the flowers like an animal caught in a snare.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 18
Kudos: 230





	If you've been waitin' for fallin' in love

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Sanctuary by Joji :)  
> I just saw this movie for the second time in cinemas last night and it’s all I can think about! I wrote most of this all out in one sitting before passing out.  
> I believe I combed out all the spelling and grammar errors but I don’t have a beta reader and you can only read the same thing over and over so many times so please let me know if there’s any errors I missed! Hope you enjoy

When Blake’s eyes opened his cheeks were flushed from the cold, his backside damp from the morning dew on the grass he’d been dozing on. The sizable bag strapped to his back the only thing keeping him from lying flat on the ground. He blinked and an involuntary shiver ran up his body, causing him to flinch slightly. 

Schofield barely stirred from where he sat across from him, perched in a similar way and eyes half lidded and fluttering like he was moments away from falling asleep himself. Blake huffed a sigh, knocking his boot against Scho’s, looking for a reaction more than anything. 

The blonde man merely exhaled through his nose, letting his eyes close. Peaceful bastard, could find the opportunity to rest in any place that allowed him. 

Blake slid off his bag behind him, rubbing the tip of his nose that felt as cold as the open air around them nipping at it.

“Going for a piss then, don’t be in a hurry to go anywhere mate,” he remarked as he rose to his feet, legs unbelievably stiff.

Scho blinked at him, fixing him with a look before letting it trail to the field they had decided to rest in. At least it hadn’t rained. This time. 

Blake sauntered off, his legs warming up as he went. What he would give for a nice knitted pair of gloves right now, or a hot cup of something, he mused as he rubbed his hands together, cupping them around his mouth and letting warm breath wash over them for good measure. After he had walked what seemed a good distance, he found a tree that was as good as anything and unbuttoned his trousers.

He really wasn’t getting used to the cold, was he? Wasn’t getting used to much of anything out here. The food was never consistent, each meal depended on what supplies they had and what they deemed fit to ration that day. Plans were always changing too, meaning he didn’t even have a routine he could become accustomed to over time. They sometimes went weeks without any news, let alone anything in the way of good news.

Something caught his eye as he did up his pants once more, not movement, no, a flash of colour, something that was quite uncommon these days. Blake has seen a vast variety of interesting plants and flowers during his time here, hell, he can think of multiple occasions when Schofield and himself had found themselves in a field of wildflowers, maybe resting there a little longer than they should have.

But this was different, bright, vibrant and purple. A bed of purple flowers he couldn’t recall the name of off the top of his head. _Violet?_ He thought, stepping closer, _Iris?_ That one seemed more fitting. He kneeled down in front of them, a smile finding its way onto his lips. He poked a petal that had accumulated dew in the cold of the morning.

Oddly, he soon found himself fancying the idea of picking a bunch of them, the best and prettiest ones, and taking them to Schofield. To show him, or, to give him he supposed. _What a queer idea to have,_ he thought, but there was no bite behind it and his lips still continued to curl into a smile.

Maybe Scho would laugh at him, maybe it would be worth it anyways to see him smile. Blake dwelled on that thought, remembering a time when they’d been sitting together one warm afternoon in a field absolutely littered with the most common wildflowers. He still thought them beautiful however. Schofield had been especially down and gloomy that day. It was wearing down on Blake, he remembers, not being able to get a smile out of someone he had come to think of as his best and truest friend.

He recalls how he’d plucked a flower from the ground, how Scho had watched him do it too. He’d tucked the flower behind his own ear, smiling a big goofy grin, asking Scho if he looked pretty. The man had to laugh into his hand, too late to hide the smile that had been drawn out. He never did answer the question, just shook with laughter and mirth. Something had bloomed in Blake’s stomach, something he bit down on and refused to acknowledge because of what it might mean. Maybe everyone got butterflies thinking about their friends. Maybe everyone picked them flowers.

Before he could let himself dwell on the matter any longer he was picking out flowers from the ground left and right. Bunching them until they filled his hand. He made the trek back a lot faster then it had taken him the other way round.

Scho had his head tipped down and eyes shut when he returned, Blake wasted no time plopping down right beside him, their knees knocking together as the shorter of the men crossed his legs. Scho started at that, eyes blinking open.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered, voice a little groggy.

He paused when the makeshift bouquet was thrust towards his chest. To say he was flabbergasted was an understatement, he kept looking between Blake and the flowers like an animal caught in a snare. Blake huffed out a laugh at the reaction, continuing to hold them out in an expectant manner.

A few beats passed before, “What’s all this then?” he asked, sounding bewildered.

Still, long fingers reached out, hesitantly wrapping around the bunch. They were cold when they brushed against Blake’s, who wasn’t sure if he was imagining the lingering touch or if time had simply slowed. 

“Flowers! For _you,_ Schofield,” he replied, like it was obvious. 

Scho watched him, top lip curling upwards ever so slightly. He brought the flowers closer, quietly observing them before looking back up at Blake who was still wearing a grin.

_He thinks it’s queer, that it’s weird. He’s going to laugh, or not even laugh, just throw them away and be grossed out forever, Christ, why did I think this would be a good-_ Blake’s mind was spiralling but it grinded to a halt when a smile broke out across Schofields face, his cheeks rosy - _from the cold?_ \- and shaking his head as a laugh escaped him.

“See them while you were taking a piss and think of me then Blake? Charming,” he joked, smiling down at the various hues of purple.

Blake instantly brightened at that, he was practically beaming. His eyes might as well have been sparkling, maybe they were with the way Scho was staring into them.

“Oh screw off, if you don’t like em’ I’ll be takin’ em’ back,” he jested, making to grab at them.

Schofield pulled them out of reach, smile ever present, “Uh- keep your grubby mitts off _my_ flowers mate!” 

When silence washed over them this time it was thankfully a comfortable one, no longer an unsure hesitance lingering over them. 

Scho plucked one from the bunch then, a vivid burst of purple with a long green stem attached to it. He tucked it behind his own ear, grinning at Blake smugly. 

“There, now I’ll be pretty too,” he said, voice smooth.

Blake wasn’t entirely sure why his heart leaped at that, but he was beginning to understand why it was speeding up when Scho leaned closer to him, plucking out a second flower and tucking it behind Blake’s right ear.

“Ah, perfect,” he said, still with a playful lilt in his voice, however the way he was speaking softer now had Blake’s heart racing faster and faster by the second.

His hand didn’t leave Blake’s face, instead it moved to cup his jaw. The smile faded from Schofield’s face and he swallowed unsurely. This was a different kind of silence. They’d had moments like this here and there, a wrestling match ending with their chests flush together, a deep conversation that left their faces a little too close to be normal. But this was different. This time neither of them made to move away, to break the trance.

His hand was anything but soft, it was calloused and probably covered in dirt, but when Schofield’s thumb swept over his cheek and kept stroking it it still managed to feel incredibly delicate. He wondered if he could feel the heat rising in Blake’s cheeks, God, his face and ears went red so easy he hoped they weren’t red right now. They had to be, he felt as if he were burning all over. Surely he was going to melt at any second if Scho kept on looking at him like that.

“Tom…” he uttered finally, trailing off before forming a proper thought.

Blake couldn’t stop his breath from hitching at the sound of his first name. It was a rare occurrence to be called by it in the first place, but something about the way Scho said it had his heart thrumming in his chest more than ever. It was more serious, private almost, like a secret.

“Yes?” Blake urged, barely masking the desperation.

A beat.

“What would you say if I…” his lips pressed into a thin line, - Blake watched his lips - he couldn’t say it. 

Schofield breathed out a breath he may have been holding. He leaned forward, watching Blake’s expression for any indication that this wasn’t okay. He showed none, his eyes fell shut. 

Warm lips pressed to Blake’s cheek, the hand on his jaw gripping a little firmer. It ended quickly for something that had happened so agonisingly slow.

Scho leaned back, his thumb swept over Blake’s cheek bone once again, this time where the kiss had been planted. His eyes searched every inch of Blake’s face, gaging his reaction, nerves showing in the crease of his brow. 

Blake’s hand twisted in the fabric of Schofield’s jacket, pulling him forward again. There was the briefest of hesitations then, as their lips brushed together momentarily. Finally they gave in, and the kiss was bruising. Blake’s heart was soaring as he gripped Schofield’s face with the hand that wasn’t occupied with tugging him down by the shirt.

Blake lacked experience, but it seemed he made up for it with sheer longing and desperation and, well, enthusiasm. When their teeth clacked together Blake groaned into the kiss, running his hand through Scho’s short hair and pulling at the tufts. 

Schofield relished in the sounds Blake was making now, he couldn’t help but to drop his free hand to the shorter man's waist, desperately searching for closer proximity. Blake almost jumped off the ground at the feeling of Scho’s long fingers running up and down his side, curling along his hips. No one had ever touched him there like that, and it sent shivers down his frankly touch starved spine. 

When they finally broke apart their breaths came out ragged and laboured. Blake felt Schofield’s hot breath wash over him, the other man seeming to be just as flustered.

Part of him wanted to ask questions, to establish in words once and for all what was happening. Instead he opted for letting the grin that was tugging at his lips spread across his face. Their noses bumped together slightly as Scho gave a laboured laugh, smiling right back.

Schofield took the opportunity to peck Blake’s lips not once but twice, and then a third time for good measure. The gesture was so soft and intimate it made a fresh batch of butterflies erupt in Blake’s gut. He was practically swooning and Scho smiled at his reaction, uncertainty still present on his face but happy nonetheless.

“You’re blushing something awful Lieutenant Blake,” he remarked smugly.

And with that Blake kissed him again to shut the bloody idiot up, but mostly because he just wanted to.

The bouquet lay abandoned, but not forgotten at their feet as Scho pressed Blake onto the ground and kissed him breathlessly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! once again please make me aware of any errors and please feel free to request more fics of them! I already have more ideas so we need to fill the tag together :)  
> Also also! I’m making a blakefield playlist! Just type in blakefield in Spotify and it’s the one by wendighoul!   
> If you want to yell about this movie or just send anonymous fic requests my tumblr is @pixelpeas


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